Ever the Brave (A Clash of Kingdoms Novel)(64)

“Sounds like a good-enough plan.” Geoffrey nods at me and then stalks to his horse. He’s in the saddle and kneeing the horse into action, tearing into the woods before anyone else moves. We’re all wooden in the sight of our fallen leader.

“Go on. Get Jamis.” Leif points to the woods before placing a hand on the captain’s shoulder. The older man’s chest shudders.

I say a silent prayer for Omar. We move through the night, slowing our travel to ensure we’re following the right tracks. Wallace isn’t nearly as helpful as Ulrich at tracking. Ulrich finds as many tracks as I do, and thanks to him we make good time crossing through the Evers.

The rocky ledges of the mountain are littered with shale chips. The horses slow as we climb. It seems odd that Lord Jamis would’ve come straight into this part of the mountains. This area is nothing but cliffs and ledges that are hazardous to cross.

We break from the trees and move along the cliff, the scant moonlight turning the rocky path grayish blue.

The tracks we were following fade to nothing. We move ahead, and then backtrack, finding nothing again. This sort of thing happens often with hunts, but it’s especially aggravating tonight, when all I want to do is find that bludger Jamis and put an end to this rebellion.

I search out over the cliff, trying to make sense of where Jamis might’ve gone. There’s nowhere but down. And that’s a sheer drop.

So where did he go?

Hands hit my back, slamming hard. I stumble one step forward. Shock hits me just as I realize it’s too far.

Over the cliff. I’m falling, arms and legs flailing—

—scrambling at nothing but air.

The ground far below speeds up to meet me.

My shout rends the night.





Chapter

29


Britta


THE DUNGEON DOOR CREAKS. I SIT UP, PRESSING my back against the bars. I wonder how much time has passed. It feels like an eternity, but I’m sure it’s only been one night. Shadows that march across the wall indicate there is more than one person coming to visit.

Phelia isn’t alone. She’s with someone whose steps remind me of a bear. Loud, solid, slow.

“Britta.” Phelia’s voice is like razors, slivering my ears. Dark energy emanates from her in a way that feels like it should blot out all the lanterns.

On her heels is Lord Jamis.

My muscles seize with the need to launch myself at him, to inflict the same pain on him that he did on my father and every person in the Great Hall.

“Miss Flannery.” The same smug arrogance he used the first time we met comes out, except this Lord Jamis is a gaunt version of that regal, deadly man.

“It’s been a while.” He steps around Phelia and raps his knuckles on the bar. Behind him, the shadows of more men appear, likely his traitor guards. “I find it entertaining that you’re rotting here, yet again. Is this your third stay in the dungeon?”

A hiss slips between my barred teeth.

“So nice the atmosphere hasn’t affected your charm.”

“What do you want?” I lunge in his direction, slamming my hands against the cell bars. He jolts back, and I cackle at him, feeling a rush of sick pleasure that he’s as uncomfortable with my presence as I am with his.

“You think to intimidate me?” His lip twitches.

“I don’t think to do it. I just do.” My words are all bluster, but it aggravates the man, which is all the power I have in this stench-soaked cave. I push off the bars and slip into the pitch-black of my cell, watching his expression sour and harden.

Bruised crescents under his eyes make his beaky nose more prominent. It’s clear the time he spent in the dungeon took its toll on his body. He is a scarecrow with a raven’s face.

He steeples his fingers and taps them to his lips, as if in contemplation. But I know this man and I know how deep his deception can run. He has something planned.

“Aodren didn’t escape.” His words come out with claws, like a cat pouncing on its prey.

My mouth falls open. If he were killed, I would’ve felt it. Wouldn’t I?

My instant reaction is to seek out Aodren’s energy. It only takes a few seconds to recognize the pull that I always feel when Aodren’s near. It’s still there, still holding tight.

Ah, Jamis is a clever, sallow snake. He didn’t necessarily lie. Aodren must still be in the castle. But why? Did the king come back for me?

Unexpected emotion itches my eyes. I blink hard, forcing it away. For the first time since I woke in my cottage and realized Aodren was on the other end of the invisible rope tied to me, I’m grateful, so very grateful, for our connection.

Phelia watches me with an expression like she’s puzzling out a question. “I think she’s still connected to him. Her expression says as much.”

Seeds. Did I just walk into a trap?

A gleam refines Lord Jamis’s carrion eyes; he’s found himself meat to tear apart. “Miss Flannery, it seems you are useful to me, once again. You are going to tell me where Aodren is.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Lord Jamis turns to Phelia.

Perhaps it’s my imagination—she seems to hesitate. Phelia doesn’t look at me when she speaks. “She lies.”

I clench my hands so tight, blood vessels might burst. My revulsion for her escalates. The fact that she can dutifully work alongside Lord Jamis sickens me. How can this woman be my flesh and blood?